


Encounter in St. Ives

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-01
Updated: 2006-08-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 16:55:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10790802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: The search for a horcrux leads the trio to St. Ives and someone Hermione never expected to see again





	Encounter in St. Ives

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Thanks to [](http://florahart.livejournal.com/profile)[**florahart**](http://florahart.livejournal.com/) for the beta  
Fantasy Fest Fic for [](http://maplesugrrrl.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://maplesugrrrl.livejournal.com/)**maplesugrrrl** who asked for _Draco/Hermione - Hermione encounters an "on the run" Draco while traveling with Harry and Ron. Happy ending!_   


* * *

St. Ives was a lovely coastal town. The port was an array of brightly colored sails, the beach covered in pristine pale sand, the scents of fish and salty ocean air prevalent wherever one happened to wander. It was rather ironic, Hermione though, that this lovely Muggle retreat was now the base of operations for a small band of Voldemort’s Death Eaters.

“Are you ready?”

Hermione looked away from the ocean view and raised her chin. Her gaze met Harry’s and she quickly noticed the concern and worry he was unable to shield from her. “That’s a tricky question, Harry. Are we _ever_ really ready? I’ll say that I’m prepared to do what must be done to help you and to defeat Voldemort.”

She had killed for the first time three weeks ago, nearly a month after they‘d left the Burrow following Bill‘s wedding to Fleur. Harry had not yet had to take another’s life so he still didn’t understand what it meant to truly be a murderer. She and Ron knew, though, and that shared knowledge had managed to bring them closer together at the same time it put something invisible and heavy between them.

When she looked at Ron now, there were no longer girlish blushes or soft smiles. Now there were only slight curls of lips and an unconditional acceptance that meant far more than infatuations and silly dreams of happily ever after. If they survived this War, they might very well have their happily ever afters, but it would no longer be with one another. That future, that possibility, had been killed along with the unknown Death Eater she’d watched fall in a flash of green light from her wand.

“I wish that you and Ron had stayed at the Burrow,” Harry said quietly as he moved behind her. His gaze focused on the ocean and she could see the dark circles beneath his eyes and the skin that was too pale and pulled too tightly over his cheeks. Her arm moved around his waist as she leaned her head against his shoulder and waited. “If either of you die, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“You’d wipe your tears and keep going,” she said matter-of-factly. “And after Voldemort is dead, you’d think of us with a smile because you know either or both of us would gladly come back and hex your arse if you mourned us with only tears and sadness.”

“You know she’d do it, too,” Ron spoke quietly from behind them. When his arm brushed against hers across Harry’s back, Hermione sighed softly. Her boys were scared. She was scared, too, but she knew the only place for fear was hidden in the back of their minds to be brought out when they were safe once again. “She’s right, though; not that that’s a surprise since she’s our Hermione. You’ll keep fighting if we fall. I’ve got family that needs saving and He Who--- _Voldemort_ needs to die.”

“If you say that I’m your hero, I’ll hex you myself,” Harry warned with a soft laugh.

“No, you’re not our hero,” Hermione told him as she pulled away from his safe embrace. She grinned as best she could considering the circumstances. “You’re just our Harry.”

Harry smiled at her, his hand tightening around hers, and then he closed his eyes to gather the strength he needed to face whatever might lie ahead of them in the small fisherman’s cabin they planned to attack. When he opened his eyes, she saw a brave man who had far too much responsibility placed on his thin shoulders. She took Ron’s hand as he gripped Harry’s in his free one. They stood on the small cliff overlooking the ocean, hands entwined, and she could feel the love between them, so palpable she nearly got tears in her eyes.

“If we get separated or have to Apparate away, we’re meeting at the harbor,” Harry reminded them. “Don’t do anything stupid or heroic. Please remember that these are the men---and possibly women, that attacked a school full of Muggle children. They won’t hesitate to kill either of you, not after what they did to those kids.”

“Stop,” Hermione commanded softly. Her hand squeezed his tightly as she pulled him from the memories of the school they’d found during their hunt for the Hufflepuff Cup they believed to be hidden somewhere in this area. “We’ll go in as we planned and hopefully capture the three Death Eaters responsible for that massacre. After that, we’ve got plans to go to Bristol and find the horcrux. Focus on that, Harry. Finding the cup and holding it in your hands, knowing you’re one step closer to fulfilling your destiny, and both of us standing by your side.”

“Enough with the talking,” Ron spoke up and grinned. “Let’s get this done. I’m starving.”

*****

Hermione ducked as a flash of blue light was sent in her direction. She sent a blasting curse at the Death Eater and used the moment of surprise to mentally regroup.

The fisherman’s cabin was too small for all the magic currently being used. The air was thick and it was difficult to breathe as she tried to find Harry and Ron. Their plan had been successful up until the moment they actually entered the cabin. Instead of the three Death Eaters they’d expected, they’d found six. Outnumbered two to one, they’d bravely stepped forward after a soft _Take care of yourself_.

She had tried to keep her eyes on them as they fought but it was too difficult. Shapes became indistinguishable in the darkness of the cabin, the candles out and natural light blocked, and it was only instinct that kept her from flinging hexes at her boys. It was the sound of bodies falling that frightened her more than anything. Even with the noise and chaos around her, every soft thump signaled a life lost.

_Avada Kedavra_ was whispered in the air all around her. One voice, two voices, it was hard to tell. As she scrambled to safety, she stumbled and tripped. Her knees hit the floor hard, her hands unable to brace her fall, and she cried out in surprise when her face slammed against worn wood. Her feet were lying across a body, she realized, and that gave her enough adrenalin to move despite the pain in her knees and cheek.

“Can’t even walk properly, Mudblood?” an amused voice suddenly rasped in her ear.

Hermione knew that voice and immediately tightened her grip on her wand. Before she could get up, a large body covered hers and pressed her against the floor. Words were muttered against her neck, hot breath making her hair tickle her ear, and then she felt as if she were falling.

The ground was hard and muddy beneath her as she found herself lying on a wet patch of land. The weight on her back lifted and she hastily moved to her feet. She grimaced at the pain in her knees, a quick glance confirming that they were scraped from her fall as dark splotches began to appear on the denim.

“Do you suppose Potter and Weasley will mourn your death?”

The scraped knees and bruised cheek were forgotten as her gaze swung up to collide with cold gray eyes. He was calm and seemed unaffected by the fight they’d just left, not a single blond hair out of place or change of color to his pale skin. If he’d wanted her dead, he’d have killed her at the cabin. If he’d wanted to torture her, he’d have taken her wand and bound her. That meant she had no idea _why_ she was currently standing opposite Draco Malfoy discussing her expected death. She wiped mud from her forehead before she said, “I’m not dead yet, Malfoy.”

“No, you aren’t,” he finally agreed even as his lips twisted into a mocking sneer. “If I wasn’t completely aware how common and inferior it would be, I could easily think of a dozen flippant remarks to make regarding your current appearance. Alas, it is far too easy given the fact you’re covered in mud.”

“Where are we?” she asked sharply, not at all in a mood to play verbal games. “Why aren’t you back at the cabin helping your friends, Malfoy?”

“Granger, you disappoint me,” he said mockingly. “I thought you’d have known above all others that I have no friends.”

She was about to rise to his unspoken challenge, memories of a dozen debates easily in mind from six years of school, when she realized something was different. The fight left her as she looked into his knowing gaze and noticed the dark circles that nearly matched Harry’s and the way he kept looking around suspiciously as if he were anticipating a sudden attack. “You’re not one of them, are you?” she asked softly, confused and uncertain and unwilling to lower her wand in case she was wrong.

“One of what?” he asked casually. He kept his wand focused on her as he pulled up the sleeve of his robe, and bared the dark scar against his skin. She could see it clearly, the burned mark standing out against the pale flesh, but she also saw what looked like cuts, deep and red, and the depth of the mark, as if skin had been removed. “I willingly accepted his Mark, Granger.”

“Yet you’ve tried to remove it,” she pointed out as she took a step forward. She raised her hand and brushed a muddy fingertip against the Mark, surprised when he inhaled sharply and seemed to shudder at the touch. “You can’t cut if off, Malfoy. He owns you and you’ll always carry his proof of ownership. No knives or spells will make your skin smooth again.”

“You’re wrong, Mudblood,” he hissed as his gaze met hers. “When he dies, it will fade. I didn’t try to remove it, you silly little girl. I wanted to remember it, in case Potty kills him before I have the opportunity. My mark is deeper than his, you see? It will last even after he’s finally dust in the wind and I’ll never forget…”

He suddenly stopped and jerked his arm away. She watched him turn to look at the ocean that she, Ron and Harry had been staring at only a short time ago. “I have to go back,” she told him firmly. “You have to take me back. Ron and Harry, they were still there. I can’t leave them alone.”

A bark of laughter greeted her statement. “Granger, we’re not going back. I killed four of them myself so there was only one left. If Weasel and Potty can’t defeat one Death Eater, well, I’d say that we’re all well and truly fucked. Wouldn’t you?”

It is then that she began to understand. She pointed her wand at herself and whispered, “ _Scourgify_ ,” to remove the sticky and hardening mud from her body and hair. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

“I could ask you that,” Draco replied after a moment of silence. “My back is to you and I’d not have time to defend myself from a well-placed hex or even the killing curse. Why are you still standing there demanding to be taken back without simply killing me and finding your own way?”

“You’re not threatening me,” she said slowly. “I’m not going to kill someone who isn’t a danger to me. As for finding my way back, I’ve no idea where you brought us and I don’t want to Apparate back into the cabin without knowing what I’d be facing.”

“Everyone is a danger, Granger. You’d do well to remember that.”

He turned to face her and she could no longer deny that he was not the spoiled little boy who called her names or tried to bully the other students any more than she was the bossy Prefect who focused on her revisions and believed that all the answers she needed in life could be found in books. He was as broken as the rest of them, possibly more so, and she knew there was more blood on his hands than she’d first believed.

“I have chosen to fight against my Lord but that does not mean I’ve chosen to fight alongside Potter. Muggles disgust me and I’ve no use for Mudbloods or those who fail to appreciate their heritage by betraying the pure blood running through their veins. However, contrary to belief, I’m not an idiot. Potty has to defeat my Lord. I don’t know why or how, but even I know one of them will defeat the other.” His smirk didn’t reach his eyes as he laughed dryly. “Considering I’d happily watch Voldemort burn to a slow crisp, I’m forced to support Potter, as much as it pains me to admit. I could have easily killed you, something that should be rectified with more training and preparation before you go into another similar situation, by the way, but Potter needs you. That fact, as it is an undeniable fact, kept both you and Weasley alive.”

Hermione stared at him for a tense moment of silence. Finally, she sighed when she realized she would not be receiving any definite answers from the man standing before her. “I’m sorry about your mother.”

That was all it took for him to drop the aloof façade and react in a way she’d not expected. Before she had time to raise her hand, she felt tree bark against her back. Her wand fell to the ground as he snarled at her; a comparison of a wild animal all too easily entered her mind.

“Don’t talk about my mother,” he growled as his arm moved across her throat. “You don’t deserve to even _think_ about my mother much less apologize for her death. Do you think I’ve not heard what they’re all saying? ‘Good riddance to a Death Eater’s whore’ is the most common. She did what those pathetic people are too scared to do and paid with her life. It should be her name on the front of the Prophet and they should all be forced to eat their words upon hearing how she bravely stood up to my Lord and put her family first. Don’t stand there giving me false condolences when you don’t know anything about her.”

“I know she’s the reason you did this.” Hermione’s finger traced the cut flesh on the side of his Mark. “I know she’s the reason you’re hunting them, wanting to kill as many as possible before they catch you. They _will_ catch you, Malfoy. He won’t ever allow one of his own to oppose him and live.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” he asked incredulously. “I failed her, Granger. I couldn’t…All I had to do was kill Dumbledore but I froze, I couldn’t kill , and now she’s gone and I‘m alone. Do you think I fear death? I welcome it, you silly Mudblood. It’s all that awaits me and I plan to take as many people with me as I can when I go. It’s ironic that being unable to kill that night months ago has turned me into a murderer. I’m sure you appreciate that, don’t you?”

“Death doesn’t have to be your future, Malfoy,” she said earnestly. “You can talk to Harry, you can fight for his side, and then it’s just War. I’ve killed to save him, but I’ve not given up on thinking about life after War. If you give up hope, you’re left with nothing.”

“You really are a confusing creature,” he muttered as he lessened his hold against her throat. “I wonder if you’d look at Voldemort himself with that ridiculous helpful gleam in your eyes if you thought he could be saved. I’m not a wretched House Elf who needs someone to champion my cause, Granger. And, just like those creatures you so diligently and foolishly tried to help, I have no interest in being saved; especially not by you.”

“It’s such a waste,” she declared with a frown. “You’re acting out of revenge and you’ll end up dying because you refuse to believe that you deserve to live. You need to find a reason to live, something to focus on and hope for in a future without Voldemort and War. Would your mother have wanted that? Did she die trying to saving your skinny arse so you could go off and get yourself killed? I thought you were smarter than that, Malfoy.”

His body pressed her hard against the tree, his leg moved between her thighs, and she was suddenly acutely aware of just how close they were and how they were standing. When her gaze looked at him this time, she realized he, too, had become aware of the intimacy of their position. He frowned when she nervously licked her lips, his eyes moving from one side to the other as it traced the action of her tongue. When his thigh suddenly moved against her, she scratched at his arms to try to get free.

“I’m not one of your lost causes, Granger,” he said quietly. His body experimentally pushed against hers again and she bit her lip to keep from moaning as his leg rubbed in such a way she couldn’t stop her body from reacting. “Are you wishing you could close your eyes and believe it was Weasley making you feel like this? Is it the adrenalin of the battle, the rush of power and use of magic that leaves you aroused and tense? Or is it me?”

“Stop this, Malfoy,” she urged, unable to answer his question because she didn’t know. She wasn’t thinking of Ron, a realization that had her feeling both relieved and ashamed, but she didn’t know if it was just the thrill of the fight or something more than currently had her feeling flushed and warm.

“What if I said no?” he asked curiously as the arm against her throat shifted. She gasped when she felt long fingers slowly squeeze her breast. “You said I should find a reason to live, right? What if I’ve decided that my reason is the desire to watch you come apart in my arms one day?”

She was prepared to Summon her wand and hex him, not finding any humor in their situation at all, but she felt him hard against her thigh and was unable to do anything but stare at him and wish she had Harry’s gift for Occlumency. Hermione needed to get back to Ron and Harry. If they were okay, they’d be waiting for her at the harbor and were probably scared and worried. They needed her, and she knew it was wrong to keep them waiting. But, tonight, right now, for some reason she couldn’t begin to understand, the man who had saved her life back at the cabin needed her, and, in her own way, she needed him.

Instead of answering his hypothetical questions, she raised up on the tips of her toes and hesitantly brushed her lips against his. She could feel him stiffen at the gentle contact and prepared to be hexed in case she was wrong. Then he opened his mouth and kissed her back. Things happened quickly after that. She felt the bark of the tree against her back as he shifted and moved between her legs. He thrust against her as her leg moved behind his to let him rub more directly. Smooth fingertips traced the bruise on her cheek as his lips met hers.

When his hands moved behind her, she jumped enough for him to grip her arse as her legs wrapped around his waist. He moved forcefully, each shove of his body against her rubbed the denim of her jeans over her damp knickers in such a way her body began to tremble, and his mouth moved all over her face and neck, far more tender than she’d ever have expected. One of her hands held onto his shoulder as the other tangled in soft blond hair.

His warm palm slid up her ribs before it reached her breast, and she gasped when she felt him squeeze it cautiously. It was the first time anyone else had ever touched her breasts; her body reacted instantly as her nipples hardened and pushed against the lace cups of her brassiere. Her hand left his shoulder to explore his body. She discovered that he was too skinny, his ribs too pronounced and his hips bony to touch. She wondered when he’d last eaten a proper meal, where he was hiding, how he was managing to escape Voldemort’s pursuit, why he’d brought her here in the first place and just who Draco Malfoy really was because it was obvious she really had no idea.

Then his teeth scraped against the sensitive skin beneath her ear and she stopped thinking. Her body rocked between his and the tree as his thrusts became harder and faster. She held him as he grunted and shuddered, and ignored the dampness on her neck when his cheek brushed against it. His hand left her breast and moved into her jeans once he’d unfastened them. Two long fingers slid along her wet lips as his thumb rubbed circles on her _right there_ until she gasped and came.

The sound of their heavy breathing was loud to her ears as she came back from the euphoria of orgasm. Her cheeks flushed as she realized what they’d just done, as she admitted to herself that she wouldn’t have said no had their clothes not been in the way. She was glad they had been because she didn’t want to give her virginity to someone against a tree in the middle of who knew where. Her legs unwrapped themselves from his thin waist and she leaned against the tree as she struggled to figure out what to say or do next.

“Don’t,” he warned quietly as he stepped away. She watched him lick his fingers, knew he was tasting _her_ , and she bit her to lip to keep herself from moaning. The front of his trousers was wet from his release and his shirt was pulled free and still beneath his arm where she’d pushed it during their encounter.

Hermione nodded once. She knew it was pointless to discuss what just happened because she seriously doubted either of them actually knew any answers. After she fastened her jeans and tried to straighten her hair, she said, “You’re too skinny. There’s a woman in Hastings that runs a small bakery and café. Her name is Ellen Mirner and her granddaughter is a Muggleborn second year at Hogwarts. She’ll feed you without questions if you tell her I sent you. If you take the War to her, I’ll kill you myself.”

“Am I supposed to be scared, Granger?“ he asked with the faintest hint of his old smugness. It left rapidly, replaced by the weary look that they all shared and were far too young to wear. “There’s something hidden in the Cathedral at Exeter. I don’t know what it is but my father mentioned it once a few years ago. I tried to find it, but had no idea what I was looking for. There’s magic there, though, and wards that I couldn’t even begin to break. You and the others, you’re looking for something, right? Maybe it’s there.”

“Exeter?” Hermione nodded slowly. “Yes, we had a feeling it was in this area somewhere, but we planned to try Bristol next. I’ll tell Harry we should go to Exeter first. Thank you, Malfoy.”

“I didn’t do it for you, Granger. The sooner Potter finds whatever he needs to get him to kill my Lord, the better,” he murmured as he cleaned his trousers and fixed his robe.

“Of course,” she said with a roll of her eyes. She knew it was pointless to ask him to join them, and she wasn‘t certain Harry and Ron would ever trust him even if they had heard rumors of someone hunting and killing Death Eaters. He needed to follow his own path to find whatever it was he was looking for, whether that was death, redemption, or peace of mind. “Where are you going next, Mal-Draco?”

“I don’t really think that one near shag gives you the right to address me so casually, Hermione.” He stumbled over her name but offered a small smirk in exchange before he looked at the ocean. “Dover. I’ve heard that one of the men who was there when she, that did things to her, is hiding out in Dover. It might be a trap, but, if it isn’t, he’s going to die within the week.”

Hermione walked to his side and looked at the dark waves in the distance. “Be careful, Draco,” she told him softly.

“Always trying to mother someone, aren’t you, Hermione?” He turned to her then, his fingers warm against her cheek as he brushed a stray curl back. She was ready when he lowered his head and kissed her. When he pulled back, their gazes met and held. “If I hear anything that might be helpful, I’ll find you. The cabin is just down the hill there. You can find it easy enough.”

“Okay,” she whispered as she moved her sore cheek against his palm.

“One day, I’m going to make you come apart for me, Hermione Granger,” he promised before he kissed her hard.

Before she could reply, he stepped back and Apparated away.

******

“Oh, thank God!”

Hermione found herself in the middle of two tight hugs when she entered the shack on the dock where Ron and Harry were waiting. Harry’s words were whispered against her hair and echoed by Ron against her shoulder. When they finally pulled back, she saw cuts and bruises but nothing more serious. “The Death Eaters?”

“Dead,” Harry said simply, a shadow in his eyes as he held her gaze.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she moved her fingers along his jaw. She had so hoped he’d not find out what it felt like to be murderer until he faced Voldemort. He had deserved a chance at retaining some sort of innocence but now that was gone.

“The others weren’t us,” Ron spoke up quietly. His hand squeezed Harry’s shoulder in a silent welcome to the club in which none of them wished to belong. “When Harry got that bloke, it was quiet and we lit the cabin and saw four dead. One escaped, I guess.”

“No, he didn’t. I don’t think he’ll ever truly escape.” She sighed as she moved into Harry’s arms and looked out at the approaching sunrise. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Ron rested his chin against her shoulder and leaned against her and Harry. “Yeah, it is.”

“A new day full of hope and possibility,” Harry whispered against her ear before brushing a chaste kiss against her cheek. “Are you okay, Hermione?”

She looked at the bright colors on the horizon and thought about everything that had happened. The look in Malfoy’s eyes before he’d Apparated away lingered in her mind and she felt her lips curve into a soft smile. Somehow she knew that he’d keep his promise and she’d see him again once the War was finally over. She nodded. “I’m okay, Harry. I love you both.”

His arm tightened around her waist and Ron squeezed her hand. They watched the sunrise silently, words not necessary between the three of them, not anymore. When the sound of Ron’s stomach rumbling interrupted the quiet, they all laughed. She turned to face them and took one of their hands in each of hers as they started to walk towards the village to see what might be open for breakfast. “I think we should go to Exeter next instead of Bristol. I don’t know why, but I have a good feeling about the Cathedral there. I think we might just find one of the horcruxes. But, first, breakfast.”

The End


End file.
